Two weeks ago, on a particularly spectacular Monday night, I played volleyball at Pier 25 by the West Side Highway. It was when I saw a yacht anchor itself just 20 feet from the sanded courts by TriBeCa that I realized I was in a fracture of someone else’s alternative universe.

See, on this boat, this anchored, large sized boat replete with strobe lights and loud music, there were no people save for one DJ who was wearing sunglasses in spite of the simple, irrefutable fact that it was past sundown. There were also several bottles of alcohol positioned across a wooden plank on the second level of the boat and crudité for days — days, I tell you, hours upon hours of gas. Incidentally, a party was going to start.

The water that surrounds Manhattan was twinkling like a shiny-ass diamond — offering the city an especially angelic facade. The sun set over the river and Rihanna was preaching love in desolate locales from a stereo system. It all seemed so serendipitous.Chiefly, I should add, because I was wearing a pair of dangerously high waist white linen pants, complete with brushed gold buttons and pockets so huge you’d think they were deliberately put there to host scores of anchors. With these pants (by Chloe, purchased during SSENSE’s giving shit away sale), I paired a — what do you know — nautical striped shirt, which I had knotted at the waist to create the allusion of a Daisy Duke who may or may not at some point during her tenure as belle found herself on the wrong side of the right island. (As in, Gilligan’s.)

The fringed linen sandal mules I subsequently completed the sentence with provided no rhyme, reason or place on a boat deck but man, they good. The scarf around my wrist could have been used for my neck or my head, or to help a drowning passenger up, while the sunglasses on my face spelled out the only definitive word that matters this time of year: S-U-M-M-E-R.

Of course, I never got on the boat — I was there for volleyball, dammit — but all this is to say one thing in the event you find yourself headed toward a nautical themed party in an urban city and aren’t quite sure what to wear but know that you’d like to allow room for someone to ask if you’re a fan of Annie Hall, look no further than here. As in, here. Also, you’ve only got one more weekend to find a boat so I suggest you do it. If not for yourself than certainly for the pants.